Born from Bahamut
by Senynith
Summary: Follow the adventures of two boys throughout Ivalice. Short stories made when I feel like writing. Possible boylove. Slight AU.


_**Part One: Rabanastre**_

**Prologue**

The Royal City of Rabanastre was a busy city. Shops of all sorts, clubs, and houses resided there, behind thirty foot high walls. The Royal Palace was built to the East of the city, separated from the rest. Many reigning rulers lived in and visited the city, and once a year a parade honoured them.

The Muthru Bazaar was an alleyway littered with stalls full of goods. It was noisy, smoke-filled, and stinky, yet if you knew how to shop and to bargain, you would come out victorious. Buskers sat between shops, trying to make money, and beggars tugged on your coat, wanting money or food. The bangaa's had the loudest voices. Their gruff sound easily carried out over the buskers and shoppers. If you didn't respond to them when they called, they cursed you loud and clear.

If you walked out of the bazaar, up a flight of stairs, you would reach the East end. More civilized than the noisy bazaar, the East end had several privately owned shops.

Among these shops was the Sandsea; a noisy tavern where most travelers in Rabanastre visited. Hunters in the area visited for the hunt bard, and took on the various marks.

A stairwell beside the Sandsea lead down to a more dangerous part of town. Lowtown was the area of the city where the Empire had sent all the residents that couldn't afford housing in the main city. To some, it was slums. To others, it was safer than being above ground. Lowtown was a dimly lit sprawl with small apartments built in to the walls. Many humes, bangaas, and seeqs preferred to spend all day out of their homes, interacting with each other.

In a small apartment in the South sprawl, a frail young woman gave birth to a baby boy. She was weak in body and only the midwife was there to help and witness the birth. The young woman died, and with her dying breath, named the child. The midwife cared for the baby for a few days, then brought him to the nomads in Giza Plains. They accepted the newborn happily and a young woman who was barren took him as her own.

On the same day, in a wealthy part of upper Rabanstre, another child was born. Another boy, to another young woman. However, she did not care to have the child, for it was illegitimate, and would cause problems within her society. She told the nurse who assisted in the delivery to take him away. Confused and sad, the nurse took the child to her mother, not knowing what to do. Having a kind heart, the woman raised the child, for she had always wanted a son.

This is the adventure of two young men, Roan the nomad from Giza Plains, and Nathyn the Imperial guard from the Royal Palace.

**Chapter One: Giza Plains**

Roan lay sprawled on the ground, snoozing under the shade of a large sunstone. His bow and quiver lay within his reach if anything tried to attack him.

A bird yelled in the distance. Roan opened his green eyes and sat up. He couldn't see any avians in the sky, and the screeching was getting closer. He quickly slung his quiver over his shoulders and, grabbing the bow, stood up and nocked an arrow. He quite liked his arrows. The shaft was long and they were fletched with the best cockatrice feathers. He hated to lose one.

The yell came again, only much closer. Then Roan realized: an Urstrix! He spun around and peered beyond the sunstone. The bird was staring at him.

Both the hume and the fiend let out a scream.

Roan took off in the opposite direction, taken by surprise. The flightless Urstrix followed him, shaking the ground as it walked.

Roan had to think quickly or he would be trampled. What could he use at close quarters? He placed his bow on it's harness whilst running, and felt around his many pockets and pouches. He located a bag full of small marble-sized balls. He hated to use one, but he had to, due to his own foolishness. He pulled one that glowed yellow and squeezed it in his fist. He took a deep breath and turned around the face the offending bird. His arm went up, and he broke the ball between his fingers. A yellow mist escaped and danced around his arm. He had just released a thunder mote.

Roan threw the pieces at the Urstrix. The mist clinging to the broken glass, and lacing up the bird's leg. A bold of lightning came from the heavens and struck it, killing it quickly. Roan covered his ears as the loud peal of thunder came forth. Being so close to the bold knocked him down and blinded him temporarily.

A minute passed until his ears stopped ringing and his eyesight returned. He stood up and looked at the bird.

"What a waste." He murmured.

The Urstrix was charred black and unsalvageable. Roan walked up to it and kicked it. The flesh crumbled and disappeared.

"Mother Gaia, take your bird back." He whispered.

The burnt bird wavered and vanished, the Mother Gaia keeping her promise to take what the humes did not. Some said that Gaia was the loving, yet fearsome god of Ivalice. Other claimed it was a kindly Occuria, just humouring them. Whatever the case, Roan liked the Mother and hoped to meet her one day.

Roan glanced over the plains. Shrubs and short trees dotted the golden land, providing sparse shade and a source of food for the indigenous animals. Amidst the bushes were large black monoliths called sunstones. Every few hours, one or two would shine brightly, causing the children back at camp to rush to them with a stone the size of their fist. This unlit stone was called a shadestone. When help up to a sunstone, it absorbed some of the light, and lit up, giving it the name of the larger rock; sunstone. The camp would sell the high quality stones for profit.

Roan entered the nomad camp, and quietly slipped into his tent. He wanted to head into Ozmone Plain for some scavenging, and he needed to be prepared. He opened a large wooden chest that he used for traveling during the rains. In it contained various weapons he'd acquired. Healing potions, items used for defensive and offensive strategy, and much more. He pulled out another thunder mote to replace the one he used. He also took a small dagger that he slipped securely into his boot. He replaced a few of his long-shafted arrows with arrows infused with blinding magick. He couldn't use magick himself - Mother Gaia had not blessed him so - so he used weapons made by wizards. They were expensive, but worth it.

He left his tent and slipped away without being seen.

The path to Ozmone was only a five minute walk from the camp, but Roan took a detour. He ambled along, taking his time. He didn't like being at the campsite because everyone fussed with him. He was eighteen years of age! Not a baby! He knew he was different since he was a little child. Every adult wanted to touch his odd coloured, deep purple-brown hair, and commented on his large green eyes. yes, he knew he was orphaned at birth and brought to Giza, but he was an adult now! Frustrated, Roan kicked a small rock and watched as it fell off the side of a small plateau.

It was then he realized something: this was the territory of Werewolves. Roan quickly looked around, but he didn't see any. He could, however, fell one coming. He ran into the nearest thicket, which was a few yards away. He hid himself the best he could and nocked a blind arrow. It was awkward positioning, but he would at least be able to nail the Werewolf and take off.

The footsteps got louder and Roan felt them through the ground. He saw the beast coming at a steady pace, a large knife in its claws. Wherever they made their weapons was unknown, but what was known was that they hurt.

Roan noticed a red aura around the fiend as it approached. It was berserked! That made everything more complicated.

The Werewolf was now in front of Roan by only a few feet. Roan held his breath as the beast walked into the bush he was hiding in. The beast put his long snout to the bush, and Roan let his arrow fly. It struck the Werewolf's nose and stuck. The beast reared up and roared, the blinding magicks now clouding his eyes.

Roan ran.

He knew the beast would follow, despite having no sight. Being berserked enhanced the senses, allowing the Werewolf to hear and smell Roan.

He had to get help. He was a bit faster than the beast, but he couldn't run forever. He couldn't run into camp; they weren't strong enough to fend off such a highly skilled enemy. Roan's only choice was to run to Rabanastre. He hoped an Imperial soldier would be at the gate to help him out.

He dodged large rocks and plants as he ran. He could see the city on the horizon. It was always in sight, but it took ten minutes to walk. Roan hoped he could half that before he was eaten.

The Werewolf's footsteps shook the ground as it ran, unnerving Roan and slowing his pace. The beast took a swipe with its large sword. Roan felt it nick his shoulder and searing pain shot down his arm. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He had to make it! Rabanastre was well in sight, and he pumped his legs even faster.

"HELP!" He shouted and waved his unwounded arm. "HELP!!"

He noticed a few soldiers bringing high quality, parade worthy chocobos through the gate. They turned around, but most continued to usher the birds in. A few residents ran through the gates, startling the birds. Others scattered to the sides and watched intently. Two Imperial guards started running towards Roan, one with a sword drawn, the other had a firearm.

"GET DOWN!" Firearm shouted.

Roan fell to the ground as the gun fired. The beast roared and Roan rolled to get out of the path of the stumbling behemoth. He watched as the Werewolf stumbled forward, blind and bleeding from a bullet wound in his chest. The guard with the sword ran at it with his blade high. He thrust it deep into its chest, and with a final roar, the Werewolf toppled backwards and breathed its last.

Roan was breathing heavily. He was on his back, clutching his burning arm, seeing the clouds through teary eyes. He caught the end of a sentence:

"-ou care about the birds more than a hume?" A face came into Roan's vision. "Hey, are you alright?"

Roan attempted to sit up and stand, but his legs were weak.

"Woah! Here, let me help." The guard offered his arm as a means for Roan to pull himself up. "Hup!" Roan was on his feet, but teetering from pain. The guard helped him keep his balance as he hobbled to the gate, and a place to sit. He winced as he sat, the pain was spreading down his back.

"Here," a bottle was placed in his hand, "a potion. That should close up the wound."

Roan gratefully drank the bitter liquid and the effects were immediate. His head cleared and the pain in his shoulder was dissipating. He finally focused on the face of his saviour.

He was a young guard, about Roan's age. He wasn't wearing head armor like the others, revealing dark grey-blue hair that was tied back. He was taller than Roan, but a lot more lean. Roan wondered how he thrust his sword into the beast.

"Thank you!" Roan finally said as he stood up.

"Finally feeling better?" The guard asked. Roan nodded. "Good! Because, uh, I think my sword is quite stuck." A sheepish grin showed on his face.

Roan laughed, "I've got just the thing. How do you manage to carry that sword around anyways?"

"It's got a float spell on it."

"You don't have to look so embarrassed!" Roan tugged on the sword. "Oh yeah. That's totally sutck." He took a small bottle out of one of his pouches. The guard looked at it quizzically. "It's Demon's blood, and very handy for this situation."

Roan let a single drop fall on the Werewolf's flesh near the blade. The dark liquid caused the skin to sizzle, emitting a foul odor. Roan gestured at the guard to pull his sword. The blade came out smoothly and the guard looked impressed.

"Pretty sweet, huh?" Roan was always glad to show off.

"Oh," the guard sheathed his sword, "my name is Nathyn, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you." They clasped hands briefly. "I'm Roan, and I'm happy to have all this meat!"

Nathyn laughed, "Yet, but, how will you get it home? They won't let you drag it through Rabanastre."

"Oh, I live in Giza Plains." Roan said nonchalantly. "I'll go back and gather some people to come and help. Hey," he turned to Nathyn, "shouldn't you be heading back for parade preparations?"

Nathyn glanced at the closed gate behind him. "Nah. No one will miss me. I'll help you take it to the camp."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I can never seem to do anything right for the other soldiers."

"Don't get depressed over it! You killed this thing and saved my life. It sure seems like you did something right to me."

"Uh, I... Th-thanks." Nathyn smiled.

Roan grinned widely. "C'mon! We've got a Werewolf to move!"

* * *

**End Comments:** This is just a writing practice. I have no idea when the next one will be up. If I have overwhelming R/R to continue, I just might do that. :]


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